Defying Snow
by LorenAnnesde
Summary: Irina Mellark has been entered into the fourth Quarter Quell and the first Centennial Celebration. How will she fare with 35 competing tributes instead of 23?


**Hello, all. Welcome to my story. Chapter 1 is an old copy I thought had been erased from history, but I magically discovered it on my Facebook. Anyway. It's unedited, but I hope you like it. Reviewing is super cool. You should do it. :)**

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Chapter 1: Capitol Offences

The dismissal bell rang and I quickly hurried out of class. The day had gone by painfully slow, as if it wanted to drag out the fact that tomorrow was the announcement of the Quarter Quell and the Reaping. The one hundredth Hunger Games had been celebrated with several huge banquets in the Capitol. My mother and father had been invited, as they were the victors of the seventy-fourth Hunger Games. I had seen the Capitol many times in my eighteen years, but my parents refused to take me with them when they mentored the District Twelve tributes. I watched from home on our television. Grandma Everdeen and Aunt Prim would stay with me, and together we would track the progress of the Hunger Games.

I left the school behind me and headed in the direction of the Victor's Village, where my parents lived. They had been preparing their bags for their long train ride to the opposite side of the country when I had left that morning. Again I wished I could come with them. When I watched the tributes die on the television, I knew Katniss would start to cry. She oftentimes admitted to me that they reminded her of her times in the Games. I never asked her what she meant. I knew it was hard for her to think about her experiences in the arena, and sometimes she still had nightmares, twenty-one years later.

"Irina!" someone shouted out. I looked over my shoulder to see Misty Peliani hurrying to catch up with me. For the daughter of a Peacekeeper, Misty was extremely rebellious, sneaking into the woods with me from time to time. She was one of my closest friends, and one of the most outspoken.

"Irina, I just came from the town hall!" she huffed as she slowed to match my pace. "My dad said that President Snow is going to announce the Quarter Quell early this year!"

"What?"

"He's reading the card tonight!"

"You're joking."

"No!" she exclaimed. "It's because it's the Centennial Celebration. They're having a ball in the Capitol tonight, too. All the previous tributes were invited. Didn't your parents go?"

I frowned. "No, they didn't even mention it…how strange."

"What about Haymitch?"

The one other living tribute from District Twelve, Haymitch was an old man who hardly ever spoke and was hardly ever sober. He didn't leave the Victor's Village too often; only to gather for the Reaping and board the train to the Capitol once a year.

I nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe he left. I haven't seen him in at least a week."

Misty nodded knowingly. "Your mom and dad probably wanted to stay with you for the Reaping." She grinned at me. "It's your last one, after all!"

"I know," I breathed. "But there's always that one chance—"

"You aren't going to be picked!" Misty scolded me for the millionth time. "Your name is one in hundreds, thousands!"

"My aunt Prim was picked! Her name was only in there once. My mom volunteered for her, remember?"

Misty glared at me. "Nothing is going to happen. You're going to stay here and never, ever have to compete in the Hunger Games!"

I shrugged, as if it could go either way. "Let's just get to my house in time for the announcement of the Quarter Quell."

People were already beginning to gather in the town square to watch the event on the large screens displayed for just such purposes as these. Benches had been set out but no one had sat down yet.

"Irina Mellark!" the mayor, Temple Reede, exclaimed. She stretched out her arms and encircled me in a hug. "How are you feeling today? I'm sure this is a very momentous occasion for you! Your first Quarter Quell!" She beamed at both of us as if this was something to look forward to. I frowned at her, confused. But then her eyes shifted around anxiously, eyeing the Peacekeepers that were stationed around the square. Misty waved shyly to her father.

"Yes," I responded, my false cheer equally as convincing. "My parents never discussed the third Quarter Quell with me, and I'm excited to experience one of my own."

"And it's the Centennial Celebration!" Misty put in. "This is the biggest event in the history of the Hunger Games!"

"I'm sure you two are off to watch the announcement at your house," the mayor told me. "Well, off with you! May the odds be ever in your favor!"  
We waved goodbye and rushed out of the square. We left the Seam behind us and eventually entered the Victor's Village.

There were three houses in use after my parents returned from the Hunger Games. Now there are only two: one occupied by Haymitch and the other by my family. It saddened me that District Twelve had only four victors in the entire history of the Games. But then again, tributes from Districts One, Two, and Four were always big, strong, and experienced hunters. It was almost always a Career—as we called them—who won the competition. It was surprising when any other District came out on top.

"I'm home," I called, throwing my books on the living room sofa and storming through the house. Misty trailed along silently behind me and joined me in the kitchen. Peeta was baking some cheese buns. A hot batch was cooling on the counter and their aroma filled the air, making my mouth water. Katniss leaned against the sink, her hands soapy from washing dishes.

"Hi, Misty. How was school?" she asked. My father quickly dispatched a new dozen buns onto a cooling rack and set the baking pan on the stove to cool. He removed his oven mitts and gave me a quick hug.

"We didn't do anything productive," Misty said bitterly. "No one wanted to focus; not this close to the Reaping." She went and grabbed a cheese bun. "Did you hear they're announcing the Quarter Quell tonight?"

"Yes; I did hear that." Peeta placed an arm around my mother. "I suppose it's better than having them tell us at the Reaping. We'll be more prepared for the cameras, then."

"The cameras!" I scowled. "Why do we always have to care what the cameras think? The Quell is terrible! They make the Games even more ugly and horrible. No one, especially not victors, should submit to this kind of horror! We should be protesting, not hiding how we really feel!"

"We can't, Irina," Katniss muttered.

Misty, her mouth full of cheese bun, asked, "Why not?"

"Just because Katniss and I are victors doesn't mean that President Snow can't fight against us," Peeta said. "He knows how to handle rebels."

"What does he do?" I asked

"Simple. He kills them."

I shook my head. "But he can't just kill you. Someone would find out something happened."

Misty cut in. "Not exactly. My dad said that the Capitol has taken high-society traitors before and tortured them. Then they make it look like an accident, an illness—"

"Okay! Okay!" I submitted, glaring angrily at the tiled floor. "I get the picture. But it's not fair!"

"It's never been fair," Katniss snapped. "Peeta and I had to lie through our teeth just to get Snow to leave us alone."

"We can't openly oppose the government—we have people that we care about that could be hurt in the process. It's happened before. We can't risk putting you in danger, Irina," Peeta insisted.

There was an awkward pause as I swallowed that last bit of information. Even if Snow couldn't get to Katniss or Peeta, he could harm someone we knew—Grandma Everdeen, Prim, even Misty. He could punish our loved ones for what we did. It was a simple way to keep rioters in check.

"I overheard my dad talking to some of his friends about rebels," Misty told us. We had accidentally left her out of the conversation, and now we turned toward her with our undivided attention. "He said that the Capitol won't stand for rebellion in the country."

"Yes; we know that," Katniss replied irritably.

Misty only smiled; she was used to my mother's quick mood swings. "But that's just it! They won't stand for it in the country! But what if—"

"But what if we were outside the borders of Panem?" I finished. "But Misty, where would we go? There's nothing out there."

"Oh yes there is!" she retorted smugly. "Two words: District Thirteen."

Peeta gave Misty a disapproving look. "Misty, we all know District Thirteen has been destroyed for a hundred years."

"My dad said they've rebuilt it. He says the Capitol shows the same footage because the District recovered and would put them to shame. They can't let anyone believe they can withstand an attack from the government."

"That's a lie," Katniss sharply scolded her. "If that were true, they would have helped us by now."

"But what if they're underground? What if they can't just outright launch an attack on the Capitol? They need more recruits. And it's not that far away! District Thirteen is so close! We could pack a few weeks provisions and—"

"Stop, Misty," Peeta said quietly. "You don't understand. We can't leave our family behind. Katniss has an elderly mother, and a sister who needs her."  
With a huff, Misty sat herself in one of the high stools along the edge of the counter. "I guess you're right."

I tried to comfort her. "They could be underground. But if they were, how would we be able to find them? It'd be next to impossible."

She was about to respond when the doorbell rang. We all simultaneously glanced up at the clock. It was nearing four-thirty. Katniss hurried her way over to the front door to let in Grandma Everdeen and Prim. Peeta returned to his cooking, setting a pot of water on the stove to boil. There would be an early dinner tonight; citizens of the Districts were required to watch the announcement of the Quarter Quell at six.

"Katniss, do you believe President Snow is demanding they read the card tonight?" Aunt Prim sounded peeved. "It has to be something big. He's going to do something to make the two of you—"

I heard Katniss shush her sister in alarm. Her low murmur was too quiet to be understood, but it sounded like she was giving Prim a scolding. I pretended to be occupied with a stain on my shirt, even though there wasn't one as I heard the sound of their approaching footsteps.

"Hello, Irina!" Grandma Everdeen greeted me as she entered the spacious room. "You are looking more and more beautiful with each passing day!" She kissed my cheek before walking over to hug Peeta. I smiled in greeting to my aunt and grabbed a cheese bun. The flakey bread was just right and the cheese was thick and flavorful. I had forgotten that my father was such a terrific baker. I wolfed down another one before Katniss slapped my hand.

"Save your appetite," she warned.

Misty ate with us. It was usual for her to be seen walking around at any hour of the day or night. Her father was unpredictable, sometimes throwing tantrums and whipping insults out, trying to scare Misty. She said she had always reminded her father of her mother, and he couldn't bear to look at her. She said he didn't really mean it when he yelled, and she would forgive him every time. But then he would just do it again and Misty would end up back on our front porch, alone and crying. We took her in like one of the family.

As we sat around the dining room table, everyone pretended this was just another night at the Mellark's. The only thing that kept me from forgetting was the every-so-often glance at the television, reminding us that there was a reason for our little gathering.

We were just pushing back from the table when another knock resounded on our door. The conversation died down, waiting for someone to answer the door. Another, more insistent rap resounded on the wood. Peeta headed toward the foyer and disappeared round the doorframe. The rest of us looked around, confused, but then Peeta reemerged with Haymitch, his arm helping to support the older man. Katniss rushed forward and grabbed his other hand and led him to the couch, moving my book bag aside.

"Thanks, sweetheart," he huffed as he sunk into the cushions. "So, I guess it's safe to say you all heard the news?"

No one answered.

"Just as well," he went on. It was clear he had been drinking. He swayed in his seat. "I bet Snow's come up with something extremely clever," he spat out. "Bah! Just another plot to give us misery, eh, Peeta?" He kicked Peeta's prosthetic leg weakly. It made a hollow metal sound. "How much do you want to bet he won't be back here to—"

"Haymitch," my father spoke angrily. "You're drunk."

"Just figure that out, boy?" he hooted. "I've been drunk for forty-five years!" His eyes scanned the faces of the rest of us. They rested on me. "Ah, and here's the little girl!" he exclaimed, eyeing me up and down. "She looks just like you, Peeta!" He turned around to grin at my mother. "Just your luck if she was put in the Games this year—mini Peeta, thrust into the arena her last year of eligibility. How could you stand it if she died? I'm sure you'd be just as tormented as the last Quarter Quell!"

Peeta glared at Haymitch. "Don't you dare talk like that to Katniss," he growled. "She's done nothing wrong!"

Haymitch laughed horribly. "She's done nothing wrong! Did you hear that?" he asked the rest of us. Misty was clutching my arm. I had forgotten that she had never seen Haymitch this way. Actually, this was probably the first time she had heard him speak. And she was getting an earful. "The bread boy says she's done nothing wrong! She's the one with the berries! She's the—"

"Get out," Katniss interrupted. Haymitch stared at her with watery eyes. "Get out!" she shouted at him. "And don't come back until you're sober. For good." Without another word she hastened from the room, leaving the rest of us open-mouthed. I was unsure as to what Haymitch meant, about Katniss being the 'one with the berries'. I glanced around, but everyone else seemed to know exactly what he was getting at. Even Misty's eyes were glittering with understanding. I stared at my feet. What were they keeping from me that I didn't know?

Prim was the first to recover. "It's okay, Haymitch. I understand how stressed you are about tonight." She hurried over to the living room and sat next to the drunken man on the sofa. "Katniss is very sensitive about the Quarter Quell, too—surely you understand that?" When he didn't respond, Prim looked at Peeta for support, but he was frozen, his eyes staring daggers into the back of the old man's head.

"Peeta?"

"It's almost six," he muttered, his voice emotionless. He turned and snapped the television on. The rest of us drifted into the living room and perched wherever there was room. Panem's anthem blared annoyingly out of the speakers and the Capitol's emblem dominated the screen. My throat constricted; everything about the Hunger Games made me want to run, to disappear into the forest, to look for District Thirteen, even if it was destroyed.

President Snow appeared on the screen, his eyes cold behind his smile. I shuddered as he began his speech. He told the story of the rebellion one hundred years ago, and how the Hunger Games ensued from their foolish attempt at overthrowing the higher authority.

"And now, at the most historic moment in Hunger Game's history," Snow continued, "we read the card for the third Quarter Quell and the Centennial Celebration." In front of him was a file filled with cards. He slipped the envelope with the number 100 written neatly on the front. His finger slid under the seal and it broke loudly, the sharp snap through the speakers making us wince. The folded slip of paper was pulled out of its wrapping and Snow read it eagerly. With a smile, he looked straight into the camera. I felt as if his smile was directed especially at me. "In order to remind the rebels who threatened to destroy this country that the Capitol will never cease their search for them, in addition to the two tributes chosen, a child of one of the prior victors will be chosen to take part in the Hunger Games. Thank you, and may the odds be ever in your favor." The screen went black.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't wrap my mind around what he had just said. I blinked furiously at the television, hoping the blackness would provide some sort of explanation.

A sudden sob caused us to look around. Katniss had reappeared in the kitchen doorway, one hand clamped across her mouth, the other grasping at her throat. Tears sparkled in her eyes as she whirled around and fled. The front door opened and slammed shut as she escaped into the night. I rose shakily from my seat. I knew exactly why she was so frightened. As Haymitch had never bothered with children, there was only one option from District Twelve: me.

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